The God Servant
by Endeavor Network
Summary: Even after being accepted by the world, Clark still struggles with anxiety and fear of being rejected. [Post-Justice League; written before the movie was released; Clois; a little Wonderbat]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters created by DC comics or the canon on which they are based.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Hostages**

Lois tapped her pen against the desk. Her unfocused gaze drifted from the Word document open on her computer to the papers and junk littered around it. Her eyes fell on the pirate eraser Clark gave her. She never used it, but it was a cute decoration. She'd been sitting there for several minutes, grappling with a story draft. She sighed and swiveled in her chair. She spotted Lombard several feet away, leaning against a cubicle wall and watching something with an amused expression. She peeked over the cubicle walls and followed his line of sight. Over by the printer, Clark was irritably pressing buttons. He stopped and stared at the machine with his hands on his hips. Lois sat back down.

"Lombard!" she called.

He looked at her, and she pointed in Clark's direction.

He snorted and grinned.

"He's your husband!"

"I'm working, unlike you!"

He laughed, but he did as she said.

"Hey," he said, walking up to Clark, "Need some help with that?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, "I can't get it to work. See, the paper light's flashing –"

He pointed.

" – so I put more in, but it still wouldn't print. I changed the ink, too, but still nothing."

Lombard opened the first paper tray and looked inside. It was full. He went to Settings in the controls, pressed a couple buttons, then looked at Clark and pointed to the little screen.

"It's set to take paper from Tray 2," he said rather smugly.

"Oh! Thanks."

Lombard jerked his head nonchalantly.

"Hey, no problem."

As Lombard walked back to his desk, he caught the eyes of a few people. They exchanged smiles and grins. Clark's naivete and innocent nature had become the office meme. Clark refilled the printer and returned to his desk with the papers. He stapled them, set them aside, and turned back to his computer. He was researching the T.M. Morrow company since the Washington Post uncovered that some of their offshore factories were actually sweatshops. Of course, the CEO and all the higher-ups denied any knowledge of their existence. He had managed to secure an interview with one of their spokespeople, and they had arranged to meet sometime this week.

He opened another tab to do a search, but stopped when he saw the red banner stretched across the webpage: "Breaking News: Several armed robbers holding hostages in an Albany payday loan center."

He picked up his messenger bag, put the papers in it, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair, and strode off towards Perry's office. Lois looked up at him as he passed. He knocked on the door before opening it and sticking his head inside. Perry looked up.

"Hey, Perry, is it ok if I go interview that spokesman from T.M. Morrow?"

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead," Perry said, waving him off.

He passed Lois again on his way out.

" _Good luck,"_ she mouthed.

He nodded. He rode the elevator down to the first floor and quickly exited the building. He turned into an alley nearby, stood behind the dumpster, and changed into his suit faster than the human eye could see. He stuffed his regular clothes in the messenger bag, which he shoved in a plastic bag, and hid underneath the dumpster. Then, he took off into the sky, breaking the sound barrier above the city.

He listened intently as he streaked toward New York, trying to sift through all the noise. He heard a panicked shriek and immediately zoned in on the source. He adjusted his course and peeled the approaching city looking for the building. He could hear what was happening inside.

"Tanan, what are you doing?" a man said, "Let her go, you're gonna get us caught!"

"No, I'm not!" the man named Tanan grunted, "The cops won't chase us if we take one with us!"

"We didn't agree to that!"

"Goddamn it, let's just go!" a woman said.

Finally, he spotted the payday loan center. The police had surrounded it. There was a hostage negotiator speaking through a megaphone. There were five robbers inside. They all wore black and grey clothes with ski masks and carried guns. Two of them were sitting in a van parked behind the building. Three more of them were still in the building, arguing. A man and a woman were standing by the doorway which lead to the back room, and Tanan was standing in front of the hostages. A woman in a purple suit was standing in front of him, and he was pointing his gun at her back. The rest of the hostages were huddled together on the floor, against the counter. There were nine of them, including the woman in the suit.

"Tanan, please!" the other man said, "At least, stop pointing the gun at her."

Tanan ignored him and pushed the woman toward the escape door. Clark dove at super-speed and burst through the wall, grabbing the woman and setting her down gently next to the opposite wall. He snatched the rifle out of Tanan's hands and broke it over his knee, then ran to the other two and crushed their guns in his palms. Then, he ran outside and came back with the two men from the van. They grunted when he dropped them on the floor, but they didn't try to get up.

Everyone gawked at him. The woman in the purple suit started shaking and slumped to the ground. The robbers didn't move an inch, but shared panicked looks with each other.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…," the woman whispered.

"Surrender quietly. You know there's no use resisting," Clark said.

"Come on. We're finished," the man said.

"You can use the front door," Clark instructed.

The two on the floor slowly lifted themselves up, and the other three moved slowly toward the front door. Meanwhile, Clark went to help the hostages.

"You're safe now. It's alright," he said softly.

He extended his hand to the woman in the suit, who was still on the ground. He smiled encouragingly, and she took his hand.

"Thank you," she said as he helped her stand up.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. Thank you."

A few of the hostages got to their feet on their own and helped others get up.

Across the room, the robbers opened the door and slowly exited the building to the clamorous sounds of the police yelling, along with the spectators and reporters. Once the robbers had been taken into custody, Clark held the door open for the hostages, and there was another swell of excitement. Some of the hostages thanked him before running out. Others simply locked eyes with him in a wordless exchange. A few latched onto his arm or his cape for a moment. As soon as they were all out, he took off, despite the outcries from the reporters below.

''''''''''''''''

When Clark walked back into _The Daily Planet_ offices, Jenny rushed past him on her way to the elevators. He garnered from the conversations going around that she was heading to Albany to cover the story. Perry strode past him with a coffee mug in hand.

"Old-fashioned armed robbery, complete with hostages, in Albany, of all places," he said cheerfully.

"Glad you're not deciding the fate of the universe, Perry," Lois called from her desk.

"Talk to that spokesman, Kent?"

"Right here," he said, holding up his interview notes.

"Wednesday," he said, referring to the deadline.

"I know."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Invitations**

Lois turned the key in their apartment door and pushed it open. She sighed as she kicked off her heels, then walked over to the couch and grabbed the remote off the coffee table.

"Wait," Clark said.

She looked at him curiously.

"Don't turn on the TV yet."

She smiled mischievously with her thumb hovering over the power button.

"I wanna see what happened."

"Well, I don't."

She looked at him seriously.

"Why are you still doubting yourself?"

"I'm not doubting myself, I just –" he hesitated, then smiled pleadingly at her and reached out a hand, "Later. C'mon, let's cook something."

Deciding to appease him, she dropped the remote on the couch, then took his hand and followed him into the kitchen. Lois wasn't much of a cook, but she liked helping him. While she was cutting up tomatoes, he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck. She reached up to pat his curly hair.

"You're such a big teddy bear."

"Because I'm hairy?" he mumbled.

She laughed.

"You know," she said, "I don't know why you don't just do all this yourself. It'd take three seconds."

"It's a bonding experience. And it's keeping you occupied."

"Keeping me away from the TV, you mean?"

He kissed her neck.

"As soon as we're done eating, I'm gonna watch it," she threatened jokingly.

Honestly, she didn't mind if they didn't watch the news at all today. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

To her surprise, however, he said, "Alright."

She looked over her shoulder at him to make sure he was as unaffected as he sounded. He smiled at her.

"Yeah," he said and kissed her again.

They ate dinner at the table, then moved to the couch. News 8 was covering the robbery. A reporter on site was talking about the incident.

" - watching in terror from outside. 62-year-old Margaret Pike was one of those people."

The station switched to an interview with an elderly woman.

"I was lucky enough to escape because the robbers ran to the back of the building, and everyone near the doors ran out. I ran as far as the other side of the street here, and people were calling 911. The police came, and the hostage negotiator. Some of us waited here and prayed for them to get out safely. The police were telling us it wasn't safe because there might be an altercation or something, but the whole situation only lasted about 15 minutes until Superman showed up."

The station cut back to the live report.

"The amount of time between Superman's arrival and the surrender of the criminals was 1 minute."

They played footage of the robbers and the hostages exiting the building.

"Albany police say that the perpetrators are charged with armed robbery, assault with a deadly weapon, and kidnapping. The police department told reporters that they could not provide information about the investigation at this time. I'm Carrie Wallis, reporting live from Albany, New York. Judy, back to you."

"Thank you, Carrie. In other news, Bruce Wayne, the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, announced today that his foundation will be hosting a gala next month to celebrate the trailblazers and activists of Gotham and Metropolis. Mr. Wayne publicly announced the event today on the Wayne Foundation's Facebook page. He stated, 'At this event, we will celebrate those from our sister cities who improve the lives of people, not just in this region, but all over the world, through their community spirit, progressive ideas, and practical applications -'"

"Why is he always hosting parties if he hates socializing so much?" Lois said.

Clark shrugged.

"He needs to keep up his billionaire playboy persona."

"I guess, sometimes, he likes to spend his cash on things other than batarangs and more machine guns to mount on his tank."

Clark grinned, but gave her a reproving look.

"He has some pretty cool stuff, y'know."

"I know. And we don't have that many friends, so I can't afford to be too cheeky. I'm glad we don't get invited to his parties, though."

High society gaggles weren't really their thing, although Lois didn't mind the free gourmet food and champagne. Clark's cell phone rang, and he pulled it out his pocket.

"Oh, it's Bruce," he said, mildly surprised.

"Speak of the bat."

"Not a good pun, Lois."

"I know; don't zap me."

He answered the phone and lifted it to his ear.

"Hey, Bruce! What's up?"

"Hey," Bruce said, "Are you busy?"

"No, we're just watchin' TV."

Lois watched him curiously.

"Well, I was wondering if, um, you and Lois would like to come -," he coughed, "- to an event I'm hosting. It's a gala, but it's not a _big_ gala. I mean, it's relatively small…"

Clark looked at Lois with wide eyes. She sat up.

"Is it superhero business?" she whispered.

He shook his head.

"It's next month. On the 15th. Obviously, if you don't want to come, I'm not tryna coerce you or anything. I know this isn't exactly your kind of thing. I just thought I'd invite you…"

"Uh, do you mind holding on for a second, Bruce? Lemme ask Lois."

He lowered the phone.

"Bruce is inviting us to the gala."

" _Us?_ "

"What?" he laughed, "We're not good enough?"

"Do you wanna go?"

He thought for a moment.

"Well, didn't you just say we don't have enough friends? I mean, I think he's inviting us because he wants to have some friends there."

"You're too good, Clark. You wanna do charity for Bruce Wayne."

"It's not charity, it's just being a good friend."

"I know, I know. That's what I mean, you're too good," she said, touching his arm, "You'd go to a party you're totally gonna hate just for a friend."

"You're not coming?"

"Of course I'm coming! I can't leave you all alone, and it'd be nice to meet your super-friends out of costume."

"Then I won't hate it."

She smiled, and Clark lifted the phone back up.

"Hey, Bruce?"

"Yeah?"

"We'd love to come."

"Ok. Great. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Thanks for inviting us. I'll see you…"

"Tonight," Lois suggested.

"Tonight."

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye."

He hung up and laughed, "He's so awkward!"

"Look who's talking."

"I'm not intrinsically awkward. I'm just a fish out of water sometimes."

"Like an alien, you mean?"

"I'm not that alien," he chuckled as he leaned in to kiss her.

"Since you're making me go out tonight," he continued, muttering close to her lips, "we should probably move the order of business a little earlier."

"What's the order of business?" she giggled before he pushed her down with his body.

'''''''''''''''''

Clark found Bruce – or rather, The Batman – on the edge of a tall building, one knee propped up on the ledge. He appeared to be talking to himself. Clark landed soundlessly behind him.

"The people of this city have lived so long in this shit heap, they don't even smell it anymore. There's so many roaches swarming, they feel like there's nothing they can do about it. We get by. We do the best we can –"

"Who are you talking to, Bruce?" Clark said cheerfully, making him jump and spin stiffly to face him.

"Uh, Alfred," he said gruffly.

"Really? Say hi to him for me," he said as he strode up to the ledge, "That's the first time I've managed to sneak up on you."

"I'm getting older."

Clark looked out over Gotham.

"Y'know, it's kinda beautiful here," he said before looking at Bruce and grinning, "In spite of all the…shit."

Bruce gave him a look that said he didn't appreciate the reference.

"Did you invite Diana, too?" Clark asked suddenly.

Bruce looked down at the street.

"I could give her a call."

"You should."

Bruce grunted in what Clark assumed was agreement.

"How're the kids doin'?" Clark asked.

"Good. I saw Victor last Sunday. He's a bright kid."

"They both are."

"Yup."

Clark looked at Bruce for a few seconds and smiled slightly.

"What?"

He shrugged.

"I just think you're good with them, is all."

"Go patrol your city, wonderboy," he grumbled.

Clark laughed and floated off the ledge.

"It's a compliment, Bruce."

"Sure. We don't have time to talk all night."

"But why would I go back to Metropolis when there's so many roaches here?"

"I still have that kryptonite spear in storage, you know."

Clark laughed again.

"Alright. See you around."

"See you."

'''''''''''''

"Diana!"

She looked up from her computer. Her co-worker Josephine was standing in the doorway.

"Claude is offering us a ride to lunch," she said in French, "Would you like to come?"

Diana smiled.

"Of course. Give me a moment."

Josephine disappeared from the doorway, and Diana heard the chatter of her co-workers in the hallway. She put her computer to sleep, stood up, and grabbed her coat. Her phone, which was sitting on the desk, rang, and she picked it up.

"Hello, Bruce?"

"Hi, Diana," he said and cleared his throat, "How are you?"

"Good," she said, "You?"

"I'm alright. Listen, um, next month, I'm having a party…Well, it's a gala, but…"

"Yes?"

"Sorry. Well, Clark and Lois are coming, so I wondered if – if you have time – if you'd like to come?"

Josephine popped her head in. Diana held up a hand apologetically.

"What day is it, Bruce?"

"The 15th."

"Alright, I'll check my calendar. If I have time, I'd love to come."

"Ok…Thanks…Enjoy your lunch."

"I will. Talk to you soon."

"'Kay. Bye."

"Bye."

She hung up, smiling fondly and shaking her head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Could I Say No?**

Someone at Wayne Enterprises must have leaked the list of invitees because on Wednesday morning at _The Daily Planet_ , Lois was joked at and congratulated by her peers. In an attempt to deflect the attention, she reminded everyone that Clark was invited as well.

"Only because of Lois," he said whenever she brought it up.

When the two got back from their lunch break, they had a few minutes to kill before getting back to work. Clark sat at his desk, reading through his story one last time before submitting it to the editing department. Lois stood behind him, leaning against the back of his chair and massaging his shoulders.

"Hey, Smallville."

"Yeah?" he mumbled.

"We should probably go get a proper suit for you. You can't go to a gala in tweed and flannel."

He snorted and looked up at her.

"What?" she said, grinning, "You know I'm right."

He sighed and looked back at the computer.

"Yeah, I know."

"Maybe this weekend, we should start looking. We don't wanna leave it for last minute."

Clark finished reading and emailed the story, then swiveled around to face her. He held onto the hem of her blouse with one hand and stared at her.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

"Nothing."

"I better get back to work," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Perry's office.

"Ok."

He took her hand and kissed it, and she glanced around to see if anyone was watching.

"Lois," he laughed, "We're married."

Smiling, she mouthed, _"It's not professional,"_ as she backed away.

He laughed again and shook his head.

'''''''''''''''''''

That Saturday, in the afternoon, they went shopping. Getting formalwear for Clark was impossible because he didn't seem to have an opinion on anything. Whatever she pointed at, he agreed to try on.

"They all look the same," he said, shrugging.

In one small tailor shop, Lois sat outside the dressing room on a little couch while Clark tried on the suits. She looked up as he emerged wearing a black tuxedo with a white shirt and black bow-tie.

"Turn around," she ordered.

He obeyed, and she nodded to herself.

"This one looks good," she said.

He scrutinized his reflection in the mirror.

"I think it has the best fit out of all the ones we've tried," he said.

"You look like James Bond."

" _Really?_ " he said, practically blushing.

"Oh my God, Clark, you are too easily flattered."

He checked himself in the mirror again.

"I mean, it's sleek."

"M-hm. Do you like it?"

He shrugged with one shoulder and said, "Yeah, it's alright. Do you think the pants are a little long?"

"No. I mean, maybe. I guess it's up to personal taste."

"I'd prefer them a little shorter."

"We could get them to hem it."

"No, it's ok."

"Are you sure? If we're going to buy it, it should be perfect."

"Yeah. I can hem it myself."

She gave him a playfully chastising look.

"Clark, we have money."

He looked down and mumbled, "But it's already so expensive, and…"

"Ok, ok, Smallville. You can hem the pants."

"Ma says I'm good at it."

"I'm sure your mother is right."

"So, I guess this is the one, then?"

"Do. You. Like. It?"

He laughed.

"Yes."

He changed back into his clothes, and they went to the counter to pay what Lois had to agree was a painful amount of money for the tuxedo. By the time they exited the shop, evening had fallen.

"Where do you wanna eat, in or out?" she asked.

He thought for a moment.

"Out."

She nodded in agreement, and they proceeded to search for the cheapest restaurant in the bougie district.

'''''''''''''''''

When they got back home, they sat in front of the TV and watched _Tiny House Nation_ , one of Clark's favorite shows. His new pants were laid across his lap as he pinned them to the length he wanted. When he was done, he laid them aside carefully and stood up to take off his jeans. Lois whistled.

"Wow, I didn't know this was going to involve a strip show."

"I'm trying on the pants, Lois," he said in a chiding tone that didn't completely mask his amusement.

He tried them on and took them off a couple times, adjusting the length every time. Finally, he settled on a length and sat down to hem them. He began slowly, intently focused on the needlework. As he got into a rhythm, he started working faster, much faster than Lois had seen anyone sew without the aid of a machine. Occasionally, he glanced up at the TV. When they showed an interesting contraption in the house, he looked at Lois like an excited child. She shook her head as she leaned back and watched him.

"You really are an alien sometimes, Smallville."

"Lois, how can you not think that's amazing?" he asked, gesturing to a foldable mirror/bed/shelf unit attached to a wall.

She shrugged.

"It's just not that surprising anymore. How long have we been watching this show? I've seen everything."

"Hm," he said as he tied off the knot on the second pant leg, "Maybe you've just lost the ability to wonder at life."

"Hey, I wonder at you every day, so –"

He chuckled and cut the thread, then stood up and slipped on the pants.

"Looks good?" he asked.

"Yup. Now I know you're such a good needleworker, I've got a few things in the closet you could take a look at."

"Be happy to."

The episode ended, and Lois grabbed the remote.

"Your show's done. Can I watch the news now?"

He smiled indulgently at her.

"Alright, Lois, we can watch the news."

She turned the channel. As the news began, Clark took off the pants and changed back into his jeans. The first story was an update on the robbery investigation.

"This afternoon, Police Chief Evan Fontaine of the Albany Police Department called a press conference to provide an update on the course of the armed robbery investigation and also to give a warm message to Superman."

Clark's stomach dropped. Even after he came back from the dead and the public started accepting him, he still felt dread every time his name was mentioned. Lois watched him carefully. She was well aware of his lingering anxiety. The station cut to a video of the press conference recorded earlier in the day. Chief Fontaine stood at a podium in front of the Albany Police Department insignia.

"At this time," he said, "we have discovered no evidence that suggests that the five perpetrators had any additional partners. I cannot reveal any more details due to the fact that this is an ongoing investigation, but I encourage anyone who has information pertaining to this case to contact the police. If you know any of the perpetrators or think you saw anything in the days leading up to the crime, we encourage you to give us a call. Every little bit helps."

He paused.

"I would also like to address Superman on behalf of the Albany Police Department and the city of Albany to thank him for his actions on the day of the robbery. Within only a minute of his arrival, he ensured the safety of the nine civilians being held hostage and the perpetrators' unconditional surrender. Kal-El, we thank you for your help, and we are eternally grateful for your service, not just in protecting the world, but our city, as well. Therefore, we wish to dedicate the APD Medal of Service to you, in light of all that you have done for us. A ceremony will be held to bestow this decoration. We know you have much more important matters to attend to, but if you should care to drop by and accept it in person, we would be honoured to have you."

The clip ended, and the news anchor started to comment, but Lois muted the TV and looked at Clark. He was still watching the screen.

"That's nice," she said, "It's been a while since a city gave you an award."

He folded the tuxedo pants and draped them over his arm.

"Yeah. I'm gonna go hang these up."

He went to the bedroom, put the pants back in the garment bag with the jacket, and hung them up. Instead of going back into the living room, however, he lingered by the closet.

Clark wasn't a complete introvert. He liked people, he just didn't like being scrutinized. As Superman, he was a public figure and, therefore, had to put out a certain amount of face. He didn't like public appearances, but he could handle them. He could smile. He could pretend to be more comfortable than he was. Being given a decoration wasn't foreign to him. It had happened many times, in the past. But he hadn't done anything like that since he came back. Governments had made speeches in his honour, they'd put up more statutes and awarded him medals and commendations, but he hadn't attended any of the ceremonies. He was still terrified of them. Of their trust, or potential lack of it.

It had been a year since he and the Justice League saved the world, and he was beginning to think that he should come out of hiding. He was, of course, still saving people and helping where he could; he just avoided any pomp. Many people praised him for being media shy, but he was sure that if he kept this up, they would start to criticize him again. It might be time to finally make a public appearance, he thought.

In theory, he liked being given honours because it meant that people wanted to interact with him. It gave him some semblance of being treated like a normal person; someone just doing his duty for the common good. The opportunity to just be Kal-El instead of Superman, subtle as the difference was, kind of excited him. It was what he wanted: to be considered the same as them, in all the ways that mattered. To not be some unreachable paragon on a pedestal.

Perhaps, he thought, if he went to the ceremony, it would help to humanize his image. Maybe it would help stop people treating him like a god, which had only gotten worse recently. There was a global cult now that worshipped him. Some people thought he was a reincarnation of Jesus Christ. He had met some of them. They loved him, but that wasn't the kind of love he wanted. It scared him. He just wanted to be accepted. Different, but one of them. He could handle an award ceremony. He'd done it before. The world wasn't in crisis at the moment. He could spare an hour for this. It would be fine.

At the same time, though, he was afraid of something terrible happening. Of someone spitting slurs or throwing something or…worse. Thoughts of the Capitol bombing loomed in his mind. Memories of burning bodies and orange flames. The smells. The screaming. It happened because of him, because Lex Luthor was trying to get to him at the expense of every innocent person in that building, including his own assistant. He hadn't forgotten it. Surely, the public hadn't, either.

He was certain that the memories of his past failures left a shadow in their minds just as they did in his. But despite that fact, they seemed to have forgiven him almost completely. Since he came back, he hadn't heard any hate speech. There hadn't been any anti-Superman protests or terror attacks either. But just because there weren't public displays of hatred didn't mean there weren't still those who did so in private.

He heard Lois get up from the couch. He looked up as she entered the room. She wrapped her arms around his waist and propped her chin on his chest.

"Clark, are you in here overanalyzing?"

He sighed and held her closer to him.

"I think I might accept the award in person."

" _Hm._ It'll be the first time in a while."

"Yeah. That's why I'm thinking of doing it. I don't want to seem too distant. The thing is, I'm of out of practice. And also…after what happened last time, I think it's maybe safer if I don't. What happened that day at the Capitol; it left a scar."

"Scars heal. They trust you now. Clark, you _died_ for them," she paused, "For me. For the world. It took all that to prove to them that you are one of us. You don't have anything left to prove. You never did, but you certainly don't have to now. You've given everything already. And if you're worried about something bad happening, in _a year_ , no one has done anything or made any threats, and Lex Luthor is rotting in jail."

In an instinctive reaction, his hairs raised at Luthor's name being spoken aloud, but he heard what she said and knew she was right. He thought for a few seconds.

"I don't…This is gonna annoy you, but –"

"You won't annoy me."

He smiled, but it was fleeting.

"I don't feel…I imagine myself there, in front of the cameras, and I feel…It's never felt quite right, but it's not just that I'm uncomfortable," he trailed off as he put his thoughts into words, "What if they don't like it? Somebody's always got something to say. And I know I shouldn't worry about things like that, but I can't help it. Things are good right now. I don't want to do anything that could rock the boat. But, at the same time, if I never show myself in public again, they'll hate that too, eventually."

Lois listened carefully, and a grave expression grew on her face.

"Clark, you are as worthy as anyone else. You are as good as anyone else. You're better than a lot of people. In here."

She put her hand over his heart.

"You're not their slave, Clark. You don't have to do what everyone asks or suggestsof you, all the time. You don't have to do what you _think_ they want, all the time. You don't live for other people. You dedicated your life to helping others, but there's a huge difference between that and living to please them. No one's demanding that you go. If you want to go, then go! You have the right to be seen and appreciated just like everyone else."

"But I refused the citizenship, Lois."

She grasped his face in both hands.

"For a _good reason!_ Because you believed it was important for Superman to not have nationalistic loyalties. Besides, that doesn't matter. Clark Kent is a citizen of the United States, isn't he? Look, if someone curses you out for this, screw 'em. After all the bullshit they've thrown and everything you've done, you've sacrificed, they should be grateful you haven't left this planet."

He smiled faintly. She sighed.

"Do you want to go?"

Slowly, he nodded.

"Then do it. And if you change your mind, then don't be afraid to stick to that, ok?"

"Ok."

She stood up on her tip-toes and kissed him. Then, she pulled away, grabbed his hand, and lead him out the room.

"Alright, you sad teddy, let's calm you down with some tiny houses."

''''''''''''''''''''''

On Sunday, Clark walked several blocks away from their apartment to a phone booth. Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself, he dialed the number for the APD Headquarters. The line rang a few times before a young man picked up.

"Albany Police Department Headquarters."

"I'd like to speak to Chief Fontaine, please?"

"Who is this?"

He hesitated. He knew he would sound crazy saying who he was over the phone. He didn't expect the man to believe him. He figured trying couldn't hurt, though. After all, they reached out to him first.

He was about to identify himself as Superman, but it always felt a little silly calling himself that.

"This is Kal-El."

The man was silent for a couple seconds before he said cautiously, "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Can you prove it?"

"No," he admitted, "But you're just going to have to trust that I'm not a prank caller. I wouldn't have much to gain if I was."

"Well…what am I holding right now?"

"I don't know."

He was well-aware he was not making himself look very good.

"Superman's supposed to be able to see everything."

"I'm in a completely different city, on the ground. I can't see over the horizon."

On the other end, he heard a door open in the background and someone walking into the room.

"How's it going, Dave?" the man said.

Clark recognized the voice as Chief Fontaine's.

"Chief Fontaine just entered the room," he said promptly, "He just asked you how it's going."

Dave was clearly impressed, since he immediately said, "Sir, Superman's on the phone."

"Are you serious?" Fontaine asked, "Let me have it."

Clark heard the phone being passed.

"Hello?" Fontaine said.

"Hello, Sir. I know you might not believe that I am who I say I am."

"Well, we'll see. What's in my left breast pocket?"

"I don't know. I'm on the ground, I can't see. I heard when you came into the room, though. Dave can confirm that. And he's tapping his pen on the desk right now."

There was a pause.

"True enough. I guess you are the real deal, then. Either that, or this is a very elaborate prank."

"I assure you, it isn't."

"So, I'm assuming you wanted to talk about the medal?"

Clark enjoyed how casual Fontaine was being with him.

"Yes. I wanted to thank you for your kind words and let you know that I'm honoured you deemed me worthy of the award. I'd be more than happy to attend the ceremony and accept it in person."

"Oh, really? Well, that's great! We're very happy you'd accept our invitation. I didn't think you really would, what with being so busy."

"I have time for this. I was wondering when exactly the ceremony will be held?"

"Oh, of course! We're still planning it, but we were hoping to fit it in around the middle of next month. When we pin down the date, which should be very soon, we'll broadcast it on the news and social media, so you should see it."

"Alright. Thank you, Sir."

"No, thank you. I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Your job's just as important as mine."

Fontaine laughed.

"I wouldn't quite agree with that, but no one accuse you of hubris. I look forward to meeting you."

"Same here. Have a good day, Sir."

"You too."

Clark waited for them to hang up before putting the phone back on the hook and exhaling. It wasn't so bad. It was ok; Everything was ok, he repeated in his head, in addition to Lois's encouraging words from the previous night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The Gala**

 **One Month Later**

"Clark, hurry up!" Lois yelled from the kitchen as she bent down to work on her heels.

"I'm coming!" he called from the bedroom.

Straightening up, she grabbed a plastic cup from the island and threw it in the sink. She was all dressed up for the gala. She wore a shimmery, grey-green dress with silver heels and had a thin, light green shawl draped over her shoulders. Her hair was tied up in an elegantly messy look with a few curls hanging around her face.

"Why is it that we're always late to things like this?" she asked irritably, but he was already out of the bedroom by the time she was halfway through the sentence.

She looked him up and down before marching over to fiddle with his bow-tie.

"We were late to our wedding," he said.

"No, _I_ was late."

"Only by a few minutes."

"Don't be ridiculous, Clark. It was 30 minutes."

"I thought we agreed to blame your family?"

She didn't answer as she cast a sweeping glance over the apartment.

"Do you have your wallet?"

"Yes."

"Ok, I have my purse, apartment keys, car keys…Are the windows locked?"

He looked around.

"Yup."

"Ok, let's go!"

They hurried out the building and down to the curb where the UberBlack they hired was parked.

"We are _so_ sorry," Lois said as they climbed in.

"It's alright," the driver said, "Are we all set?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Hopefully, we'll get there in time for Bruce's speech," Clark muttered.

"Well, if we aren't, I'm sure he'll forgive us."

By the time they arrived at the hotel, they were 22 minutes late. They thanked the driver, jumped out the car, and rushed inside. The lobby was large and lit by warm, golden light from the crystal chandeliers. A pedestal sign that read "Wayne Foundation Twin Cities Achievement Gala" pointed to a wide corridor on the left. They followed a series of signs and the increasing sounds of chattering and swing music until they finally arrived at a pair of double doors, one of which was propped open. From the hallway, they could see a crowd of well-dressed people inside.

Upon entering the ballroom, the first thing that struck them was the height of the ceiling. The room was already big, but the ceiling made it feel cavernous. There was a stage on the left side of the room where a band was playing. Long tables draped in white cloth lined the walls. They were laden with silver platters of hors d'oeuvres and a wide variety of drinks. There must have been about 200 people there. While Lois scanned the food selection, Clark looked for Bruce. He spotted him several feet away amongst a cluster of people. Bruce saw him as well, and quickly excused himself. He walked up with a hand extended.

"Clark Kent. Lois Lane. Good to see you again."

"It's been a while," Clark said.

"Have you tried the champagne?" Bruce asked as he waved over a server carrying a tray of glasses.

"Well, we just got here," Clark said.

"You just missed the speech."

"Yeah, we figured. We're really sorry."

He and Lois each took a glass and thanked the server.

"What was it about?" he continued.

Bruce shrugged and made a noise that was a mix between a grunt and a sigh.

"Unity. Strength in numbers. Everyday heroes, that sort of thing."

"You don't sound too enthused," Lois said, "I thought you believed in those things."

"I do. It's just, there's a number of people here that couldn't care less. It's a little annoying when they clap for something they don't know a thing about. I actually _wanted_ to invite about 60% of the people here. The other forty are just the big shots that get offended if you don't invite them to every party you host."

"Ah, the struggles of being a rich playboy," Lois said sarcastically.

"Lois," Clark muttered.

Sometimes, he wasn't 100% sure she had really forgiven Bruce for almost killing him. Bruce didn't seem offended, though. In fact, he smiled.

"I know, I sound full of crap. There's a lot of things worse than having people you don't like show up to your party. I just hope they don't annoy the rest of my guests."

"There's a lot of people here," Clark said, inserting himself in the conversation for Bruce's protection.

"Yeah," he said, surveying the crowd, "One upside to having an inflated guest list is that it makes people feel more comfortable. In case they want to hide from anyone in particular…You can try some, if you like," he said suddenly to Lois, who was looking at the food again.

"Oh. Thanks," she said, looking embarrassed before slipping away.

"So," Clark said casually, "Is Diana coming?"

Bruce gulped down the rest of his champagne.

"I called her. Said she might. She hasn't gotten back to me yet, so prob'ly not."

"Hm. Where's Alfred?"

"At home."

"Do you _ever_ let him out?"

"He's my butler."

"Are we talking about Alfred?" Lois said as she returned with a sushi roll which she held up to Clark.

"Bruce didn't bring Alfred," he said before letting her shove the whole thing into his mouth.

"Aww, why not? We never get to see him. Just because he's a butler doesn't mean he has to stay locked up in the house all the time, y'know."

"Well, if I'd known you wanted to see him so bad –" he stopped and stared behind them.

Clark and Lois turned around and saw Diana entering the ballroom. She was wearing a black dress with a deep v-neck, short sleeves, and pleated skirt. She grinned and walked toward them with open arms.

"Hello, my friends!" she said happily.

She hugged and kissed Lois on both cheeks, then hugged Clark. She and Bruce carefully half-embraced, and kissed on the cheek. Clark and Lois exchanged a look. When Diana stepped away from Bruce, she grinned again at all of them.

"I didn't know if you were coming," Bruce said.

"It was a surprise."

A server offered Diana a drink, which she refused.

"So, how is everything?" Lois asked.

"Good, good. Things are busy at work, right now."

"Did you get some new pieces?" Clark asked.

"Yes. We're putting together a new exhibit, and we're also negotiating with a private owner for a Dumas."

"Are they being difficult?" Lois asked.

"Well, she wants to get the best price and make sure that it's going to be given the best possible treatment. I think she just needs a bit more persuading. It's understandable to be anxious when making a decision like this."

"Well, you're very persuasive," Bruce said, "I'm sure everything will work out."

She smiled at him.

"Thank you."

Suddenly, a man with brown hair who was a little below average height and looked to be about 30 walked up to them.

"Evening," he said almost loudly, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all," Bruce said, suddenly becoming perky and sociable, "Everyone, this is Christopher Toller of _The Gotham Review._ "

"Hi, call me Chris," he said rapidly and with a heavy city accent as he shook everyone's hand, "Ms. Lane, big fan. You're a ballsy journalist."

"Thank you. Are you a journalist, as well?"

"Nah. I'm more of a reporter."

He looked at Clark.

"Mr. Kent, honour to meet you. That was pretty crazy, being presumed dead, and all."

"Yeah," Clark mumbled, "Uh, what kind of reporting do you do?"

"Ah, interviews, public opinion, da-dada-da-da."

"He's done some very important stories over the years," Bruce said.

"Yeah, when they _let_ me."

"He's brought some bad people to justice."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Chris said, clearly affected by the flattery.

His manner of speaking was almost manic and seemed to increase in speed as the conversation continued, making his sentences run together.

"I only caught, like, three people. They were local politicians. And, then these guys tried to kill me, but whatever. Look, most of my stories are just magazine puff pieces. For example, the one I'm doing right now is like a public opinion poll about who's people's favorite superhero and why and stuff. Totally inconsequential. By the way, who's your favorite superhero?"

They looked at each other as an awkward and confusing moment passed.

"I like Batman," Clark said casually.

Everyone stared at him.

"Oh yeah why's that?" Chris asked.

"He's just really honest. He's flawed, but he knows it, and he always tries to do the right thing. And he doesn't have any powers, yet he's willing to go up against these incredible forces that are deadly even for those who do have them. Even if the whole world turns its back on a cause, he won't. Since forever, people said Gotham was a hopeless case, but he didn't listen, and he's still fighting for it. He's proven that all you really need to be a superhero isn't powers; it's courage and grit. I think that might make him the best superhero there is."

It was obvious to his friends that Bruce was going through a lot of emotions at the moment. Chris, however, was oblivious.

"That's true," he said, nodding thoughtfully.

"That was very well said, Clark," Diana said, smiling fondly at him, "I think I agree with you."

This clearly did not help Bruce at all, as he glanced between them with an expression that was simultaneously dubious, touched, and aggravated.

"What about you, Ms. Lane?" Chris asked.

"Superman."

"I figured you'd say that."

"Why's that?" she asked, giving him a dangerously innocent look.

"Oh, no reason," he said, laughing, "Superman's the most popular superhero, you know?"

Even after she and Clark got married, she couldn't escape the rumors about her and Superman. Some tabloids even went so far as to surmise that she cuckolded her husband for alien sex. Shockingly, some of them pointed out the resemblance between Clark and Superman only to say that she married him because he reminded her of the hero. She and Clark thanked whatever force of fortune or stupidity keeping them from putting two and two together.

"Bruce?" Chris asked.

Bruce looked up.

"Huh?"

"Who's your favorite superhero?"

"Oh, uh…I would say, uh…" he mumbled as he looked down, then cleared his throat, "I guess, uh, Wonder Woman."

It was Diana's turn to be surprised. Clark and Lois resisted the urge to grin at each other.

"Aw, me too!" Chris exclaimed, "She's a total badass, and she's hot. I mean, Superman's hot too, but I'm not into guys, so…"

Diana and Clark smiled, Lois giggled, and even Bruce smirked.

Bruce continued, "Nah, I mean it's how tolerant she is. She's not from our world, but she put her life on the line for us. I think we should all be very grateful that she's been willing to put up with our mortal bullshit for so long."

He and Diana made eye contact, and they smiled at each other. She glanced down and was about to say something when another person interrupted them. A brown-haired woman tapped Bruce's shoulder. He turned to look at her.

"Hello, Bruce? Do you remember me?"

"Uh, no, I can't say I do," he said, shaking her hand.

"It's Elise. I'm pretty sure, last time we met, I left you my number, but you must have lost it," she said with a bit of sarcasm.

Bruce glanced around at the others with an apologetic expression. His eyes lingered on Diana. She smirked and looked across the room.

"'Scuse me," he said before ushering Elise away with him.

Chris cleared his throat.

"Well, it was real nice meeting you folks. Maybe we'll talk again later?"

"Of course," said Lois.

"It's nice to meet you," said Diana.

Clark shook his hand, and then Chris disappeared back into the crowd. Clark, Lois, and Diana stood silently for a moment.

"You two can go dance. You don't have to stay here with me," Diana said.

"Clark, honey, do you wanna dance?" Lois asked.

"Ok."

They headed into the middle of the room.

"I love when you call me 'honey'," he said.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's cute."

"God, you're such a puppy."

They were embarrassed and amused for a few minutes while they tried to figure out how to dance to the swing music. They giggled fitfully even after they managed to achieve what they hoped was a passably normal series of movements. When the song ended, Lois dragged him over to a table with wine because she "needed more alcohol to deal with this," but they got sidetracked by the wares of the desert table. While they sampled some tiny cakes, they spotted Diana dancing with Chris, who was a foot shorter than her. They ended up chatting with some people they already knew and were introduced to a number of other interesting people. Many of them were activists, educators, or members of the press. Occasionally, they did meet a big-wig, but even they weren't too insufferable. They were surprised to find themselves relaxing and enjoying the event.

20 minutes before the gala ended, Bruce approached them and whispered, "When this is over, ride with me back to the mansion. We can have dinner."

"Invite Diana," Clark whispered back, earning him another 'remember the kryptonite spear' look.

Then, Bruce went onstage to present the Wayne Foundation's Revolutionary Citizen Award to a high school principal from Gotham. When the gala was over, he gave a farewell speech and thanked everyone for attending. People lingered in the ballroom saying goodbye and finishing conversations. Clark and Lois found Diana standing outside in the lobby.

"Did Bruce invite you over for dinner?" Lois asked.

"Yes. You're coming too, right?"

"Yup," said Clark, "He's gonna give us a ride."

At the moment, Bruce was occupied with his other guests, so they stood outside to wait for him. A valet brought Diana's sleek, grey sports car around.

"Wow, nice!" Lois said.

"Thanks. If you'd like, you could ride with me, since Bruce is busy right now."

"Hey, what are you guys doing?" Bruce said from behind them.

They looked back at him.

"We were just wondering where you were," Diana said, "I was about to take them, since you're so rudely keeping them waiting."

"Well, don't worry, I'm here now," he said, smiling faintly at her cutting humor.

"Where's your car?" Lois asked.

He gestured down the curb to his Aston Martin. Lois examined it, then looked back at Diana's.

"Which one should we go with?" she whispered to Clark.

"Bruce seems lonely…" he mumbled.

"Oh, _fine!_ " she growled before turning to Diana, "Thanks, Diana. See you in a bit."

Diana smiled, amused.

"See you in a bit."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Among Friends**

Bruce's lake estate had the air of a haunted place. There wasn't a soul within a mile of it, and the only building along the road that led to it was Wayne Manor, a ruin under restoration. There were no lights on, an eerie silence hung over the grounds, and the lake rippled in the dark. Bruce pulled into the garage and got out, followed by Clark and Lois. Diana stepped out of her car wearing a black, faux fur coat and carrying a large, black leather purse. Bruce unlocked the door.

"Alfred, I'm home," he called.

They heard movement from one of the inner rooms.

"Welcome home, Master Bruce," Alfred called back in a blasé tone, "Shall I set the table for dinner?"

"We have guests, Alfred," he said as he locked the door behind them and pulled off his coat.

"Ah, very good, Sir," Alfred said without any more enthusiasm.

His approaching footsteps echoed loudly through the glass and metal hallways.

"How many guests will be joining you this evening, Sir?"

"Just three."

Alfred emerged out of the shadows. He wore a white dress shirt, russet vest, and black pants. He grinned widely when he saw who the guests were.

Diana stretched out her arms and said happily, "Hello, Alfred!"

"Hello, hello, hello!" he said as he strode towards them, "It's so good to see you!"

He hugged Diana.

"How are you, my dear?"

"Very well. I missed you," she said as she pulled away, "I brought you a present, you know?"

"A present? For me? Oh, you didn't have to."

He looked at Bruce.

"Turn the light on, why don't you?"

Clark was the only one who glimpsed the face Bruce made as he walked over to the light switch and flicked it on.

"Ah, how are the two lovebirds?"

"We're good," Lois said as she hugged him, "How are you?"

"Much better than some. I'm well on my way to becoming a grumpy old man."

He looked up at Clark.

"Hug man, right?"

"Sure," Clark said, grinning.

"When he says 'sure,' it means 'absolutely,'" Lois said.

"M-hm. Very demure, this one," he said and patted his arm, "How've you been?"

"Good."

"Haven't been to any ritual animal sacrifices, have you?"

Clark's brow wrinkled.

"Why would I do that?"

Alfred laughed.

"I'm just joking. I'm referring to that cult of yours."

" _Alfreeed_ ," Diana said, "don't bring up his cult, you'll make him uncomfortable."

"Too late," Clark muttered.

"I'm sorry," Alfred said, "Shall I distract you with dinner?"

As he led them through the spacious house to the dining room, Diana asked, "Are you going to eat with us, Alfred?"

"Well, I don't usually join Master Bruce when he has guests, but for you, I think we can make an exception. Wouldn't you say, Sir?" he said, looking over his shoulder.

"They're _your_ guests, Alfred. You should have heard them clamoring for you at the gala."

"Is that so?" he said, clearly pleased.

They entered the small dining room. The table was stainless steel and had six chairs. It was parallel to a long, glass wall that offered a view of the lake. Alfred and Bruce set the table and insisted that everyone else sit down. Clark and Lois sat on the side facing the window, and Diana sat on the other side. When they were done, Alfred left to go retrieve the food from the kitchen, and Bruce sat at the head of the table, with Diana on his right and Clark on his left. He unfolded the napkin in his plate, laid it on his lap, and cleared his throat.

"I heard you were gonna receive an award," he said to Clark.

"Yeah," Clark began hesitantly, "It's kind of them, and I figure it's about time to stop avoiding the public."

"You aren't going to do this regularly," Diana half-asked.

"No. It wouldn't be practical, anyway. This is just the first time in a long while."

Alfred came back, balancing a heavy-looking serving dish on one hand and a cloche on the other. Clark started getting up to help him.

"Oh no, no, I've got it, don't worry."

He set them down in the middle of the table and pulled the lids off. The cloche contained a roast beef sirloin, and the serving dish contained lasagna.

"Lasagna!" Clark and Lois cooed at the same time.

"It looks delicious, Alfred," Clark added.

"Thank you. Master Bruce is partial to lasagna," he said as he cut the beef.

"Aww, Alfred, you made his favorite food," Diana simpered, glancing at Bruce.

He looked as embarrassed and annoyed as she expected.

After Alfred filled up the plates, he left and returned with wine glasses and a bottle. When he finished pouring those out, he sat down beside Diana.

"So, what have you two been up to?" he asked Clark and Lois.

"Working," said Lois, "We don't actually do much. Which is why it's nice to get out of the apartment."

"Do you watch TV at all?"

"Mainly the news," said Clark, "And game shows…"

He laughed, "And home renovation."

"Hallmark at Christmas," Lois added, "because what says 'holidays' like terrible, repetitive romance movies?"

Alfred laughed.

"It's true, but once you start bingeing them, it's hard to stop, isn't it?"

"M-hm," she agreed as she sipped her wine, "What do you watch, Alfred?"

"Oh, whatever's on. I've got a soft spot for crime shows, preferably British. I find the American ones a bit silly. Master Bruce's favorite show is CSI, did you know?"

They all looked at Bruce. He tried to look like he didn't care, but the set of his mouth betrayed his annoyance.

"Well, he is a detective," Clark said.

"Funny thing is, all he does when we watch is complain about how unrealistic it is."

They laughed.

"I would have thought you had a bit more appreciation for the fantastical, Bruce," Diana said.

"There's a difference between innovation and magic," he said seriously.

Over the course of the meal, Alfred casually dropped slightly embarrassing facts about Bruce. At first, Bruce ignored them and maintained a carefully constructed neutral expression, but as the night went on and the wine disappeared, he began defending himself and laughing while doing it. Lois was more than happy to engage in some playfully deprecating banter.

A couple hours and three bottles later, Bruce said, "Should we open another bottle, Alfred?"

"Very good, Master Bruce," Alfred said cheerfully before getting up.

Lois pulled her phone out of her purse.

"Wow, it's 2:00 A.M."

"So late?" Diana commented.

Lois looked at Clark and stroked the back of his neck.

"Are you tired, sweetheart?" she asked.

"A little."

"Do you want to go home?"

"Mmm…," he hesitated.

She rolled her eyes.

"You usually asleep by now?" Bruce asked.

"Usually," Clark said, "I guess maybe we should head back…"

Lois ended up calling a cab. They had to wait about 20 minutes for it to get there, and they talked some more in the meantime. When it was almost time, they started to say goodbye.

"Thank you so much for inviting us," Lois said as they stood up.

Bruce followed suit.

"It was nothing. Thanks for coming over."

He and Lois kissed on both cheeks, and she went around the table to say goodbye to Diana. He leaned over to Clark.

"Hey, do you think she's still a little mad at me for…" he trailed off.

Clark smirked and patted his shoulder.

"Yup."

"Don't let him keep you locked up in here," Lois joked as Alfred hugged her to his side.

"Don't worry, my dear, I would never allow it."

Bruce lead them to the front door.

"Take care," he said.

"You too," Clark said, "Get some rest tonight, ok?"

Bruce smirked.

"Ok."

He closed the door behind them. Clark rested his hand on the small of Lois's back as they walked across the driveway.

"That was fun," he said cheerfully.

"Yeah," she yawned, "I wish we could see them more often."

"Maybe he'll throw another party as an excuse…You should try to stop being so salty to him, y'know?"

She looked up at him from under her eyelashes.

"What are you talking about?"

He chuckled and kissed her forehead.

"Alright."

Back in the house, Alfred claimed to suddenly remember that he had to run a diagnostic on one of the Batcave computers. He refilled his glass and left Bruce and Diana sitting alone together. She smiled amusedly, then turned to look out the window at the dark lake.

"They're a sweet couple," she said.

"Yeah."

"They care for one another. They would make very good parents."

"If they can have children."

She gave him a critical look.

"Yes, if they can, they would have a very happy family."

He nodded. A minute passed.

"Have you…" he hesitated, "ever wanted that?"

"Children? Yes. I wished to raise a daughter as my mother raised me."

"You don't want to anymore?"

"I would like to, yes…But, I can't see it anytime soon," she hesitated for a minute before continuing, "I haven't met an appropriate candidate."

He smirked and nodded.

"They're hard to come by. You'd probably have better luck with clay."

She smiled.

"You could always adopt," he suggested.

"Yes," she said, trailing off almost as if she was talking to herself, "I could.

"It's not the right time, though," she said, addressing him directly.

He nodded again.

"I can understand that."

A few more minutes of silence passed. He finished his glass and looked across the table at the bottle. He didn't want to get up, nor did he want to ask her to pass it for him, so he stayed in his seat and followed her gaze out the window. The moon had come out and was shimmering in broken lines on the water.

"I think you are a natural father," she said.

He looked at her, surprised.

"You care about the young people you take in. You want them to succeed, to do better than you. I see it, even with Victor and Barry. They look up to you."

He looked out the window again. Everyone was so full of flattery today, he wondered if he had a terminal illness only he was ignorant of. Perhaps Clark had spotted an aneurysm or heard a heart murmur.

"Thank you," he muttered, "They look up to you, too."

She smiled and sighed before standing up.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I'm taking a plane back to Paris in the morning."

"Well, thanks for coming. Have a good flight."

She walked over to him and leaned down. He held his breath as she kissed his cheek and didn't exhale until she straightened up again.

"You're welcome. I'm going to give Alfred his present."

"Alright."

Before she receded into the darkness of the hallway, he asked, "When will we be seeing you again?"

She looked back at him.

"I don't know. Whenever we're both available, I suppose."

"Yeah…Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Bruce."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: The Ceremony**

Clark hovered in the clouds above the APD headquarters. The sky was overcast, so he was hidden from the crowd of people gathered below. They were held back from the building by barricades along the sidewalks. News crews lined the street. Lois was in the crowd on the right side of the doors. She had worked her way to the front so she was pressed up against the barrier. She glanced up every few minutes, knowing that he was probably up there. He watched her as he stalled, building up his courage.

His heart rate was elevated, even though he was breathing deeply. He tried not to, but he couldn't help listening to people's conversations. He hadn't heard anything negative yet. The main sentiment was of impatience and excitement for his arrival. Several people had made signs, all of them positive.

He wasn't running late. The ceremony was going to start in about 11 minutes, and he didn't care to show up any earlier than necessary. It wasn't going to last very long, thankfully; just 25 minutes. He was pretty sure that was due to the fact that Fontaine could sense his anxiety. Fontaine was going to give a speech, then Maryl Estevez, the woman in the purple suit who he saved during the robbery. After that, he would be awarded the medal. They had offered him time to speak, but he declined. He had never given speeches before, and he was too nervous to bear it, anyway.

He continued breathing and closed his eyes. He let the breeze blowing over his face calm him, then slowly began floating down to the ground. The water droplets condensed on his suit, skin, and hair, providing a cooling sensation. He opened his eyes as he emerged from the clouds. A few seconds passed before anyone noticed him. As his feet touched the ground lightly, he made eye contact with Lois. She smiled reassuringly and subtly waved at him, and he gave her a tiny smile.

He was good at filtering out all the noise, but he noticed a child calling out to him. He looked behind him, to his right and saw a little girl of about 7 standing behind the barrier with her hands clutching the bars, and her face pressed between them. She was wearing a shirt with his emblem, and her parents stood behind her. She made a shocked expression, as though she hadn't really expected him to notice her. He walked over slowly, making sure her parents were ok with it. They smiled at him, and the girl suddenly became shy, as she turned and hid between their legs. Her mother bent down and touched her shoulder.

"Anila, look, it's Superman. Didn't you want to meet him?"

She didn't answer and fidgeted. Clark smiled and kneeled down.

"Hi," he said gently.

She looked over her shoulder.

"Hi," she mumbled.

"My name's Kal. What's your name?"

She turned towards him, but remained glued to her parents. She stared at him unblinkingly.

"I'm Anila."

"That's a pretty name. It's nice to meet you."

He extended his hand, and she stared at it for a few moments before reaching between the bars and putting her small hand in his.

"I like your shirt."

"Thank you."

She came closer and pressed her face between the bars again.

"I think you're really nice," she said bashfully, "and I'm sorry people were mean to you. You're my favorite superhero."

He was taken aback.

"Thank you…That's really sweet. I think you're nice, too."

They smiled at each other.

"Well, I have to go inside now," he said, "It was nice meeting you, Anila."

"Nice to meet you, too."

When he entered the building, Fontaine was waiting for him in the hallway with a few officers behind him. He strode forward and shook Clark's hand.

"Kal-El, it's an honour to meet you. I'm Chief Evan Fontaine."

"It's an honour to meet you, as well."

"Did you have a good flight here? The weather's not too good."

"It's much more amicable above the clouds, Sir."

Fontaine looked amused that Clark called him "sir."

"Glad to hear it. You definitely didn't leave any time wasted. The press room is down here, if you'll follow me."

He led Clark through the station. Most of the officers standing in the hallway or looking out through office doorways stared at him in awe. Some of them smiled at him, and he smiled and nodded back. Fontaine reached the door that said "Press Room" and looked back at Clark.

"Ready to go in?"

He enjoyed how casual Fontaine was with him.

"Yes."

As soon as the door was open, cameras flashed rapidly and reporters called out. Fontaine went straight to the stand.

"No photos, right now, please. Thank you."

The flashes died down, and he readied himself to speak.

"Good evening, everyone. I'd like to thank you all for attending this ceremony. I'd especially like to thank Maryl Estevez for coming to share her story with us. Lastly, I'd like to thank the man we are honouring today. He is a fierce warrior, an inspiration and an example to us all, and I would argue, despite turning down the citizenship, an exemplary citizen. Ladies and gentlemen, Kal-El."

As they clapped, Clark fantasized about melting into the floor. He wished he could say the ceremony was a blur, but it was impossible for it to feel that way when everyone was talking about him the entire time. Fontaine rambled on about why he deserved the Medal of Service, then Ms. Estevez recounted the robbery. She spoke with teary eyes about her terror as Tanan jabbed her with his rifle, how she wasn't sure if she was going to survive, then the overwhelming relief when Superman dived in and gently lifted her to safety. He was entranced by her gut-wrenching story, especially since she often glanced at him as she told it. It was always poignant to hear events from the other perspective. He could never truly understand their fear or how his actions affected them. He found comfort in the fact that he did the right thing this time.

After Ms. Estevez finished, a sergeant brought forward the medal in a wooden case with blue felt padding, and Fontaine placed it over Clark's head. Everyone applauded, and he shook the hand of everyone who was on stage. Ms. Estevan walked up to him and asked if she could hug him, and he said of course. She held onto him tightly.

"I'm sorry you went through that," he said.

He knew it didn't make a difference, but he wanted to say it anyway. She was a good person. It wasn't fair what good people went through. It wasn't even fair what bad people went through, sometimes.

"There's no need to apologize," she said as she pulled away. Her eyes were slightly red, but she was smiling, "Something's always happening to somebody in the world. We can't stop it. We're all due a bad day. I'm just glad you were there for mine."

He smiled back and tried not to tear up. After they said goodbye, Fontaine approached him.

"Would you like to go out the back?" he whispered.

Clark chuckled.

"No, the front is fine. Unless, you usually have people go out that way."

Fontaine laughed.

"Nope. Suit yourself."

He shook his hand again.

"Thank you," Clark said.

"Thank _you_."

Clark exited the building still wearing the medal. He wanted to take it off, but thought it might be rude to do so right after they gave it to him, and on their doorstep, too. His heart thudded and adrenaline (or whatever the Kryptonian equivalent was) raced through him as he walked straight up to Lois before she even called out to him.

"Kal-El, congratulations on the award," she said, grinning, "Would you consider giving The Daily Planet an exclusive interview?"

"Of course. And would you mind if I gave you a lift?"

The words "Certainly not" were scarcely out of her mouth before he reached over the barrier and flew away with her. They landed lightly on a rooftop a couple blocks away.

"Oh my God, Clark," she giggled as he released her, "If you keep acting like that, you're gonna confirm what the tabloids are saying."

"You're the one who asked for the interview."

"You're the one who came straight to me like a puppy."

She reached into her bag and pulled out her notebook and pen.

"Ok, so, first thing's first…how do you feel?"

"Terrible," he said, though it wasn't entirely true.

"Mmm," she mumbled, pen hovering over the paper, "Try again."

"I thought I was gonna die at first, but now I'm ok."

She gave him a look that said, _"Yeah, that's not going in a newspaper."_

He sighed.

"I'm really honoured by everything they said, especially Ms. Estevez. I was very nervous going in, but now I feel…touched. And appreciative. I wanna thank the APD for organizing this, and everyone for believing in me."

She scribbled furiously.

"Good. Next question: where are you gonna keep the medal?"

"In a drawer. On top of a table, maybe."

She shook her head bemusedly as she wrote it down.

"Annnd, do you think you'll be accepting any more awards in person?"

"Probably not. It would depend on how busy I am."

"How are you going to celebrate?"

"I don't know if that's any of their business," he said suggestively, and she couldn't help but smirk, "How about having some dinner?"

"The Man of Steel is going to eat some dinner," she recited.

She flipped the notebook shut, put it away, and pulled out a camera.

"I have to take a picture."

He stood a few feet away, and she lifted the camera.

"Big smile."

He sneered.

"You know Perry will print that."

He smiled properly.

"I'm gonna make copies and put them in our apartment," she said cheerfully as she put the camera away.

"Please, no."

"And I'll send some to your mom, too."

"Lois, no," he said as he stepped forward and hugged her.

He relaxed in her arms, and she hummed sympathetically as she kissed his cheek.

"Was it too much pressure today?"

He groaned.

"Oh, poor baby," she sighed as she reached up and patted his head, "I'm sorry, but I have to go back to the office."

"Mm…"

He didn't let go.

"Clark…"

He pulled back and looked at her. The next second, they both leaned in for a kiss. It started out normal, but slowly became more passionate. She pulled away before it got too far.

"Clark, can you please put me on the ground?"

"Gladly," he said, grinning.

"You know what I mean!"

He conceded and flew her down to an empty alleyway. She touched the side of his face.

"I'll see you later, ok?"

"Ok."

"You did so good today. I love you. And so do a lot of other people."

He took her hand from his face and kissed her palm.

"Thank you, Lois."

"You're welcome."


End file.
